


The Hope of Better Weather

by shafau



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 04:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shafau/pseuds/shafau
Summary: Set sometime after Shadowplay, in the early days of the war.





	The Hope of Better Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after Shadowplay, in the early days of the war.

He finally found him perched on the roof of the building, staring out over the city.

"So this is where you holed up."

Tumbler lowered himself to the parapet next to Prowl.

"Well?"

Silence. He risked a glance. Prowl hadn't moved an inch. He just sat there, one leg propped up on the ledge, arm draped over his knee.

"Are you just going to keep ignoring me?"

He swung his legs over the parapet. The noise from the streets was muted up here, softened and blurred by the distance. He stared down at his feet, dangling so far above the heads of the people below. A rush of vertigo swam over him, and he curled his fingers around the rough edge of the parapet, feeling the coarse alloy scraping against his fingertips.

"It was a mistake."

"I'm sorry?"

Prowl's eyes remained fixed on the horizon. "It was a mistake. You and me."

"Oh."

Abruptly, Prowl's gaze fastened upon him. "You don't sound surprised."

Tumbler grimaced, still staring past his knees, idly kicking his feet. "I guess I'm not." Below them, a maintenance drone chugged slowly down the street. "It's not been right for a while now, has it?"

Since Orion, he didn't say. He didn't need to.

"Perhaps it never was."

"Perhaps."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the city. The last of the sunlight was dwindling, and only the highest of the spires and domes of Iacon were still flecked with gold. The lower levels, the plazas and streets, were shrouded with shadow; but even as they watched, Tumbler could see the neons beginning to flicker on. Soon the city would be bathed in a different kind of light, as the day shift ended and the nightlife began.

Music drifted from a passing vehicle, the distance softening it beyond recognition.

Prowl cleared his throat, a small static 'huff' that was familiar and alien all at once. "I recommended you to Zeta. For a transfer to the mnemosurgery division."

"What? Why?"

"I thought..." He dropped his gaze, lips twisting with repressed emotion. "I thought it might make things easier. A fresh start. Some distance between... whatever this was."

Tumbler frowned. "Don't do me any favours, Prowl. I don't need your help."

"I know. It's up to you."

Tumbler snorted.

"And what about you? What will you do, now?"

Prowl's optics drifted out to the horizon again, and this time Tumbler followed his gaze. The spaceport was just visible in the distance, a bright smear in the shadows of the Manganese Mountains. "I have no wish to live in chaos. I am... considering my options."

"You're leaving."

"Perhaps."

Tumbler gave him a long, hard look, but any protest he might have made, any argument, died unspoken.

"You don't have anything to say to that?"

He shook his head, sighing. "You do whatever it is you think you need to do, Prowl. You always do."

The silence between them became more uncomfortable, pressing down on them like a physical thing. Part of him wanted to speak, to try and bridge the distance that was between them... but the simple truth was, there was really nothing left to say.

"Well. I guess I'll be going then."

"Yeah."

"Goodbye, Tumbler."

"'Bye, Prowl."

The enforcer turned and left the rooftop silently. Tumbler remained, watching the city. Amidst the soft roar of the traffic, a lonely siren wailed somewhere in the distance. A few blocks over, an engine turned over and the distinctive whine of a rotary frame filled the air.

His hands would have trembled, were they not gripping the ledge so tightly.

It really was a long way down.

**Author's Note:**

> This was planned to be a set of five short stories, focusing on Chromedome/Tumbler's life during each of his major relationships - Prowl, Scattergun, Mach, Pivot, and Rewind. This was the prologue, and the only one that was close enough to finished to be worth publishing.
> 
> Named for the album by Michael Price.


End file.
